


Plumbing

by Rainefallen_Angel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:16:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23413684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainefallen_Angel/pseuds/Rainefallen_Angel
Summary: Aziraphale is a bit of an idiot. So is Crowley. A pipe breaks in the bookshop and antics ensue.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Plumbing

Crowley woke up to his doorbell ringing. At 1 am. He less than gracefully rolled out of bed, and rubbing sleep out of his eyes, pulled on his robe. He buzzed his late night visitor in and moments later his front door opened to reveal a sopping wet, out of breath Aziraphale standing in his flat wearing tartan pajamas and pink fluffy bunny slippers.

While the angel was catching his breath he smiled at Crowley and the semi-coherent sentence he had carefully formulated in his half awake mind fell apart as he began to speak and he mumbled the jumbled mess of words under his breath in a scratchy morning voice. “angel... ‘s 1… morning... what… heaven… the name of Satan… s’cute… why…” Aziraphale smiled at him again not having heard anything Crowley said and, regaining his breath, responded.

“Terribly sorry to bother dear but I seem to have run into some trouble with the bookshop and I seem to require your assistance. That is if you're alright with it” Crowley sparked into action, miracleing his robe into his usual outfit and handing Aziraphale a towel which the angel graciously took. 

Once the angel was dry, the two quickly made their way down to the Bentley and Crowley silently (as he had just woken up) drove them down the empty streets of Soho to the bookshop at a speed which definitely wasn’t legal. When they got there Crowley got out of the Bentley and walked up to the bookshop door which he then opened and was promptly soaked. 

Aziraphale walked up to stand next to him “You see. A pipe burst and I don’t know how to fix it. I thought maybe you would.” He supplied. Crowley nodded, He had a lot of experience with fixing broken pipes in Hell. He stepped inside of the store and the two of them split up, splashing around looking for the broken pipe. 

Crowley found the pipe hanging off the ceiling spewing water in the back room and yelled across the bookshop “Angel! Turn the water off for Satan's sake!” While waiting for the water to stop spewing out of the ceiling like a waterfall Crowley left to pick up supplies from the hardware store. After receiving no less than 10 weird looks from the late night employees, he was back with everything they needed.

He started fixing the pipe, explaining everything to Aziraphale as he went along because it was nice to have someone to talk to while doing this. Around 3 am he was about halfway done when he stopped and turned around to look at Aziraphale, who had fallen asleep in his chair. His head was slumped on his shoulder, his hair was plastered to his face from the over abundance of water in the shop and he had a pleased smile across his face.

Crowley moved to turn around and then stopped and tapped the angel on his shoulder. He jolted upright and then relaxed when he saw that it was only Crowley. He then asked “Is everything alright Crowley dear?” Crowley looked at him, rather exhausted. 

“You’re an angel.” he stated pointedly. 

Azriaphale looked at him, his face a mixture of concern and confusion “Are you alright dear boy?” 

“You’re an angel. You can perform bloody miracles.” Aziraphale reached a hand up to rest on Crowley’s arm looking concerned for his mental state. 

“The pipe” The angel's face lit up with recognition and embarrassment. He buried his head in his hands as Crowley laughed good naturedly. Crowley perched on the arm of the chair to sit with Aziraphale and looked over at him, smiling. 

When Aziraphale finally pulled his head out of his hands and looked over at Crowley to apologize it caused the demon to laugh even harder. They were both soaked and sitting in a chair in the back room of the bookshop together after fixing a pipe that they didn’t need to fix and Aziraphale looked so apologetic in his soaked pajamas. Crowley's laugh was contagious and soon Aziraphale was laughing along with him.

“You’re a bloody idiot, you know that angel.” Crowley said and before the angel could start to apologize Crowley leaned down and pressed his lips against the angels before sliding down and wedging himself between Aziraphale and the arm of the chair, setting his head on the angels shoulder and whispering “Don’t apologize. It’s fine angel.” 

Aziraphale’s face flushed tomato red and when he looked down at the demon on his shoulder he saw that he was bright red too. “So um.. what does this mean? For us?” Aziraphale tentatively asked. 

Crowley just shushed him, covering his mouth with his hand and whispered “Just give me a moment angel” Aziraphale nodded his head and waited a moment before tentatively asking “So.. are we a ‘thing’ now?”

“If you’re okay with it.” came the quiet answer from the demon resting on his shoulder. Aziraphale nodded his head and smiled to himself. When he looked at Crowley he saw that the demon was beaming too. 

Crowley yawned “G’night angel” and snuggled down onto the angel’s shoulder and Aziraphale placed his head on-top of Crowley’s and, pulling a book from one of the many stacks in the room, began to read out loud. In barely any time Crowley fell asleep to the sound of Aziraphales gentle voice painting pictures of far away places. When he realized that Crowley was asleep he quietly closed the book and closed his eyes. Soon he too drifted off into a sleep filled with dreams of his demonic boyfriend.

The two slept just like that. Soaking wet, crammed into a cushioned chair in the back room of the bookshop, exhausted, and together.


End file.
